


Dirty Little Secret

by sottovoce81



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, No Underage Sex, Relationship Discussions, Secret Relationship, Underage Kissing, underage cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4162464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sottovoce81/pseuds/sottovoce81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saw this tumblr prompt and couldn't not.</p>
<p>You know what's great? Any story where someone, staring at the floor, fists clenched, mutters, "maybe I'm tired of being your dirty little secret," and the other person is so surprised they drop the pan they're washing in the sink, splashing water up on the countertop.</p>
<p>"What?" this person says, the sponge probably hanging in their fingers forgotten. "Sorry, I don't--what?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Little Secret

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't tag this as just 'underage,' because Stiles and Derek have not had, and will not be having, sex. They have been dating while Stiles is 17 though and sleeping in a bed together. There is a brief scene about them discussing whether or not they will be having sex. (The answer is no.) In my head, Stiles is turning 18 a few months after the events of this fic. If I missed any other important and/or triggery tags, please let me know.

Everything was great. It was awesome. Spectacular. Stiles had been dating the all impressive and gorgeous Sourwolf for going on five months now. His Der-Bear, Honeyboo, Fancy Face, (and any other loving pet names Derek wouldn’t kill him for,) had finally succumbed to Stiles’s sexy wiles after a rather disgusting fight with pixies. When the last one had finally hit the ground, Stiles was holding one shaking hand against his ribs where he’d taken a hit, so he only had one hand free to grab Derek’s shirt when the werewolf shoved him up against a tree and kissed the everliving crap out of him.

Stiles lost track of every joke he’d been about to stay. He also ended up with both hands clutching Derek’s shirt to keep him from moving away. He barely even heard it when the rest of the pack came bounding through the trees to come and help them with the now-massacred pixies.

Derek must have though, because he made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and then he was gone, standing at least a dozen feet away when the pack found them.

To say Stiles needed a moment to adjust was a bit of an understatement.

But adjust he did. And then whenever he and Derek were alone, they made out like that was the only way they could breathe.

Derek dragged him into the pantry during Isaac’s birthday. Stiles snuck kisses in the hallway when they passed each other to and from the bathroom during pack movie nights. Derek began crawling through his open window more nights than not, and they spent hours making out. It only took a few weeks before Derek was sleeping over. In Stiles’s bed! That’s when the cuddling began.

It was almost more intimate than being attached at the mouth for hours at a time. Derek would tuck Stiles up under his chin, nose pressed against Stiles’s hair, and run his fingers back and forth against Stiles’s shoulderblade or his back. Stiles could never last long with the petting. He was out like a light in less than fifteen minutes. Derek always laughed when Stiles woke up from it, teasing him for being like the bunnies his family had kept before the fire. (Bunnies are apparently the easiest animals to put to sleep with petting if you do it right. Who knew? Also, who knew werewolves would keep bunnies for pets instead of for food? Certainly not Stiles.)

At two and a half months, Stiles finally asked Derek when they were going to have sex. Derek was in the process of tugging off his shoes to get in bed, and he froze--not a good kind either, like the times Stiles played with straws on purpose when they were with the pack.

Stiles was just about to say something, like ‘Nevermind! Forget it!’ or ‘Just kidding, I don’t really want to,’ when Derek was all but diving out his window.

That was a bad night. He didn’t sleep much. He figured Derek didn’t either, when he ran into him at the grocery store the next day. He didn’t know werewolves could get dark shadows under their eyes from lack of sleep. He would have thought the super healing would take care of that. Apparently not.

They talked it out. Not at the grocery store of course. Seriously, if any of the old biddies had heard that conversation? His dad would not have been happy. No, they talked at Stiles’s house. He made Derek sit up against the headboard, and then he sat with his back to Derek’s chest, so Derek wouldn’t have to make eye-contact.

Then they talked. Well, mostly Stiles talked and Derek grunted out ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to whatever he said. It was awkward, and painful, and consisted of a lot more ‘do you actually like me’ phrases than Stiles had previously expected. But they did it. And Stiles agreed to wait until he was eighteen.

And that was that. The cuddling recommenced, because yes, Derek really did like him.

Now here they were, another two and a half months later. Five months into this thing, this Derek and Stiles thing. And Stiles was happy. More than happy. So imagine his surprise when he realized Derek wasn’t happy.

There he was, innocently washing dishes at half past midnight, like you do when you and your boo get a case of the munchies and decide to make a full meal because werewolf stomachs are bottomless pits. He was humming meaningless nothings under his breath, and Derek was slumped over the table halfway into a food coma, watching him.

Stiles glanced over at him, because Derek had been in kind of a weird mood so far that evening. Derek avoided his eyes, looking at the floor instead. That was warning number one.

“You okay?” Stiles asked, knowing the answer was probably a no. But he kept washing the dishes, pretending not to be as concerned as he was.

Derek grunted out an underwhelming, “I’m fine.”

“Really? Because you don’t look fine. You look grumpy. I haven’t seen you look so grumpy in months, Sourwolf.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Derek sat back in his chair, fists clenched against his jean-covered thighs. Then the werewolf ducked his head and muttered, “Yeah well maybe I’m tired of being your dirty little secret.”

Stiles was so surprised he dropped the pan he’d been washing in the sink, splashing water up onto the countertop and dousing his shirt in suds.

“What?” The sponge was hanging from his fingers, dripping on the floor because he was now facing Derek in shock. “Sorry, I don’t--what?”

And for the second time since this all began, Derek ran away. And Stiles was left standing in the kitchen, wondering what in the hell had just happened.

It only took a few minutes for that shock to bleed into righteous fury. Then Stiles threw his sponge into the sink, splashing yet more water all over himself, and set off to find his shoes and his keys. He stomped his way to the Jeep, drove to Derek’s loft, and parked beside Scott’s car because Scott must have been hanging out with Isaac. He slammed the jeep into park more angrily than he usually would have dared. And then he made his way upstairs, fuming the whole way.

That righteous fury was now just anger. Because piece of shit little werewolves needed to learn how to talk about their fucking feelings.

“Derek!” he shouted as he slammed open the front door.

Scott and Isaac both turned from their seats on the couch. “Dude,” Scott said slowly.

Isaac just pointed to the stairs that led to Derek’s room.

“Excuse me,” he told them curtly, already on the move again. “I’ve got to go yell at my idiot boyfriend because--” (and he yelled this part) “he’s an idiot!”

“I knew it!” Isaac cheered. “Told you they were dating!”

Stiles ignored Scott’s grumbling as he passed them. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sourwolf!” Stiles all but shouted as he stomped his way up the winding staircase, figuring Derek was probably listening in anyway. “That’s not how you leave a conversation. For the last frigging time, you have to actually talk to me if you want me to know what’s going on.” Then he slammed his way into Derek’s room.

Derek was sitting on the foot of his bed, shoulders hunched, looking miserable. And all of Stiles’s anger drained away.

“Shit, Der,” he sighed. And he closed the door much more carefully than he had opened it, knowing it wouldn’t do much to dissuade Scott and Isaac from listening in, but hey, at least he tried.

He crossed the room and sat down a few inches away. The hand on Derek’s shoulder made the werewolf curl in even more.

“Der,” he repeated, leaning so his forehead could rest on Derek’s shoulder, other hand wrapping itself around Derek’s arm. He felt the muscles tense when he did so. “You can’t just spring something on me like that and then run away. You have to tell me when you’re thinking stuff like that, and then we have to fix it.”

Derek’s shoulder rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles interrupted, “are you really trying to apologize for being upset? I’m pretty sure that as your boyfriend it’s kind of my job to stick around when you’re upset.” He lifted his head to glare Derek into submission.

“Are we?”

“Are we what?”

He shrugged. “Boyfriends?”

Stiles swallowed. “I kinda thought we were. I mean, these cuddles are exclusively Stiles-and-Derek cuddles, right? You’re not like sneaking off to cuddle some other dude?”

Derek huffed. “Of course I’m not, idiot.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Of course not, he says.” Stiles considered that for a moment, because hey, it looks like they were finally having the labels talk and he was sort of excited that it had finally happened! Although he guessed Derek must have been waiting for this even more than he had been. “I didn’t know if you were ready to go in with the whole official business. I mean, the first time you kissed me you pretty much jumped away from me as soon as the pack arrived. I kinda took that as a sign.”

The tips of Derek’s ears went pink, and Stiles had to forcibly stop himself from kissing them.

“I uh,” Derek began oh-so-eloquently. “I was a little unfocused when we kissed. I didn’t really realize it was the pack, so I just…”

“Jumped away in case it was another attack?”

He nodded shyly.

“Then how come you didn’t say anything when we started making out all the time?” Stiles asked. “I mean, it got to the point where I was sure the pack was going to start calling us on it for how many snack and bathroom breaks we took.”

“I was nervous then. And it became habit to just, to just keep it private.” Derek shrugged. “And besides, Boyd did call me on it.”

Stiles threw up his hands. “What? You never told me that.”

Derek aimed his Sassywolf look (patent pending) at him. “Boyd looked me in the eye, asked me how long we’d been together, and what the pack was going to do if we broke up.”

He winced. “Harsh. When was this?”

“About three weeks after the pixies.” Derek looked away again. “That was the first night I slept over. I came over to talk to you, but...” He shrugged helplessly.

He looked so defeated. Derek Hale wasn’t supposed to ever look defeated. Grumpy, sassy, sad--anything would be better than the look in his eyes right then.

Stiles couldn’t take it. He pushed Derek’s arm out of the way and straddled his lap so that he could wrap his arms around Derek’s neck. He knew that was the right call when Derek dropped his head to Stiles’s shoulder, arms tugging him even closer.

“I wasn’t trying to keep you a secret,” Stiles said quietly. “I didn’t know you wanted to tell people. I mean, who in their right mind would want to admit they’re dating me? Right?”

“Idiot,” Derek muttered against his shoulder. “Maybe I’m not in my right mind.” Then Derek started with that petting thing on his shoulder blade, thumb rubbing up and down, up and down. “You know,” he began, “you’re not the only one who’s insecure in relationships. I haven’t exactly had great past experiences. I keep expecting this to fall apart too, but it’s just...felt different. From the beginning. I want this to work.”

Stiles tried to hold him tighter. “I do too, Der.”

“I want it all with you,” Derek admitted. “Date nights, hand holding, telling the pack. I guess I just got jealous enough of everyone else that I finally said something.”

Stiles snorted. “Dude, you dropped a bomb and ran away.”

Derek nipped his shoulder for that, but Stiles just laughed and continued. “This right here? This is talking. This is a conversation. Two mutuals discussing their feelings like saps. That back there in my kitchen? Never do that to me again. It felt like you were dumping me.”

That got him a little love-bite to the neck. “I’m not dumping you,” Derek said roughly. “I wouldn’t.”

“Well then please refrain from running away when we need to talk, okay?”

“I just...words aren’t…”

“Easy. Yeah, I got that, believe me. But I’d rather sit there with you for a few hours slowly hashing it out than spend another sleepless night wondering if you’re ever coming back. Okay?”

He felt Derek nodd against his neck.

“Good. Now, are there any other bombs you need to drop like right this instance? Maybe to tell me that I steal the covers at night or that knots are a real thing?”

“Oh my god, Stiles,” Derek whined.

“What? I keep asking Scott but he’s not sure because maybe it just hasn’t happened to him yet.”

“Shut up,” he begged. “Please. I don’t ever want to picture that ever again.”

Stiles kissed his cheek. He’d try again on that question another time. “Seriously though, other than wanting to ask me if I wanted to be your Facebook official for-real boyfriend, is there anything else we need to talk about tonight?”

Derek shook his head.

“Are you sure? Because my dad’s working, so it’s not like I have to get back any time soon.”

“I’m sure.”

Stiles sat back to smile at his now official boo. “Good.” And he punctuated that with a kiss. “Because I really need to snuggle the crap out of you. Get under the covers.”


End file.
